Return
by MyOTPstolemylife
Summary: Wendy is interrogated about her past with Peter Pan.
1. Chapter 1

**_Prompt: the interrogator slapped a pile of photos on the table in front of you. Each one is from a different time period. You are in all of them._**

I stared hard at the photos, remembering each occasion they were taken. I bite back a bitter laugh. Even after all these years, Pan still has a way to come back and haunt me.

"How do you explain this to me?" the interrogator glared at me. I shifted comfortably in my seat. Pan taught me way back when how to deal with the police.

I roll my eyes and look at the ceiling. "Where's my lawyer?"

He smacked a hand on the table and stuck his face in front of mine. I could see the sweat dripping down his face and smell the stale coffee and donuts on his breath. "You don't get a lawyer!" He shouted. "You have no rights." He pointed back to the photo. "Talk."

I sighed, thinking over the past hundred years. Pan finding me in 1917, depicted in the first photo of me in a nightgown with perfectly coiled curls. Dancing to jazz music in the roaring 20's, the second photo showing me and Tootles dressed in age-appropriate garb. Decade after decade, until the early 1990's when I was finally able to ditch Pan and his merry band of assholes and start my own life for the first time in nearly a century. He bugged me relentlessly for the first five or so years, but dropped off the map in 1999. Despite his absence, I have still been allotted my immorality and inability to age. (Much against my wishes.)

I snapped back to reality when the cop shoved my shoulder, hard, into the back of my chair. "I said, _talk."_

I crossed my hands on the table in front of me and took in his appearance of blond hair, brown eyes, bushy brows, and an odd scent of wood polish and Old Spice cologne. "Look, Tony—can I call you Tony? You look like a Tony. Anyway, I will tell you the story behind each of these photos, it just might take a while. Sound good?"

He grunted and sat down across from me. "We've got all day, Blondie."

I grinned. "It might take longer than that."

_OUAT_

"Hold up, hold on, wait," 'Tony' barked four hours later, putting up his hand to silence me. "You're expecting me to believe that this fella here—" He pointed to Pan in the background of one of the photos from the early 70's, showing the two of us holding hands with sunflower crowns on our heads. "—is an immortal boy who reigns over an island in a different dimension, has the ability to use magic, and has a troop of also immortal boys who do his bidding?"

I rolled my eyes. "You forgot about the part where he was hundreds of contacts all over this world, and other worlds, how he kidnaps children and brainwashes them into becoming his servant, and the fact that he's a self-obsessed narcissistic dick who fancies himself a god."

He made a show of scribbling in his little notepad. "Just so I'm quoting this right, that was 'self-obsessed narcissistic dick', correct?"

"Yup."

'Tony' rubbed his temples and sighed. "As much as I'd like to believe that you are a delusional crackhead, this isn't the first time he's flagged on our system. In this day and age, not much surprises me anymore. We got more people doing magic than ever before nowadays. We've been trying to track him down for years. He's been a sideshow act at numerous shady joints, where people would just up and disappear. He had suspected links to a huge kidnapping ring back in the 80's, which you've just confirmed, but no one knew who he was. Give us a name and we'll cut you a deal."

"Wait," I stared at him, not believing the words that were coming out of his mouth. "I'm going to jail for being a _witness?_ I just gave you all the damn evidence you needed and you're sending me to prison?" I sat back in my chair, feeling deflated and incredulous. "American justice system at work."

"You'll be tried as an accessory to kidnapping. If this guy is as dirty as we think, possibly even third-degree murder."

I shot out of my seat and slammed my hands down on the plastic table hard enough to break it in half. 'Tony' stared at me, sputtering in shock. "I was a 15 year old girl. Hell, I _am_ a 15 year old girl. I was diagnosed with Stockholm syndrome for Pete's sake! I was not mentally stable when he forced me to be a part of those things. If I hadn't, he would have killed me. There are plenty of factors in my favor here, buddy." As I finished, a pair of guards burst through the doors. They pushed up against the wall and snapped a pair of handcuffs around my wrists. They yanked me back so I could see the interrogator.

"Miss Darling, his name." He stared at me coldly. "Please."

The thought of his name brought a vile taste to my mouth. It burned my heart as I thought about _him,_ and I knew exactly what would happen the moment I said it. "Peter Pan."

The lights flickered and dimmed, leaving us in complete darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: trigger warning, mentions of physical abuse/trauma.**

I felt his presence before I saw him.

The air seemed thicker than before, and I found myself choking as I tried to breathe.

I could hear the policemen shouting, screaming orders at each other, at me, at whoever was listening on the other side of their radios, but the sound of his footsteps thundered in my ears.

I could sense his scent, through the cloud of cleaner and body odor and cologne. He smelled of the outdoors, like fresh air. He smelled of adventures and nightmares.

Hell, I could even taste him. His presence brought an onslaught of memories, bombarding my brain every second. Walking on the beach and eating raspberries. Climbing trees and picking the exotic fruit. His kiss the night he told me that he loved me.

I snapped back into reality as one of the cops shoved me toward the door. "Get her out of here!" My interrogator yelled. "It's her that he wants!"

My survival instinct kicked in when he grabbed my arm. I started thrashing and screaming, trying to get free of the man's grip on me.

 _Get away. I have to get away from Peter._ That thought became a mantra as I struggled to escape. "I can't go back! I can't go back!" I wretched myself away from the guards and threw my body at the door. It popped off its hinges on the first try and I hit the ground running.

The bright florescent light blinded me, but I shook it off and barreled down the long hallway, knocking over a secretary or two as I searched for a way out. I saw a glowing exit sign above the door thirty feet ahead of me.

One problem.

Slightly was guarding the door, and he didn't seem all that happy to see me.

"Well, well, if it ain't the Wendy-bird, returning after a long time away." He twirled the small dagger he held on the tip of his finger. "I'm sure this ain't the welcome back party you were expecting."

The very sight of him nearly made me throw up. I was struck with the awful memory of what he did to that child who didn't want to be a lost boy.

"Move, or I will hurt you!" I shrieked, feeling hysterics start to set in. My hands were still bound behind my back, and Slightly towered a solid foot above my head. _I can't go back I can't go back I can't go back._

"She won't hurt you," a cool voice stated from behind me. I froze up, icy dread shooting through all my limbs. "She can't. It's not in her _nature_."

His voice triggered several different reactions in my mind. Pure terror, dread, fury, sorrow, longing, and bitterness.

I decided to go with fury.

"Leave me the hell alone, Peter! I'm not going back with you, not after what you've done. Just get out of my life!" I turned around, and what I saw was like a knife to the heart.

He looked the same as before, the same boyish face with too-long blond hair and emerald green eyes, a dimple whenever he grinned, which he was doing now, and a small star shaped freckle on his nose.

His hands and torso were coated in blood.

I almost fell to my knees as I imagined those poor officers, how their lives were taken from them so cruelly. I shook my head, backing away from him, muttering, "I can't go back. I can't go back. I can't go back."

I turned and ran full-tilt at Slightly, catching him off guard. I knocked him out of the way and whipped the door open, feeling disoriented in the sudden darkness of night.

I kept sprinting the best I could with my hands tied behind my back, for nearly an hour, until I collapsed from exhaustion in front of a small gas station out in the middle of nowhere, where I promptly broke down and sobbed.

A teenage girl, probably around age 18, came out of the store to find me balled up on the sidewalk. Judging by the label on her shirt, she worked there.

"Hey, are you okay?" She called out to me hesitantly.

"No, not really," I sniveled, blinking the tears away the best I could.

She bit her lip, contemplating what to do. If I were in her shoes and had a blubbering mess in front of my store with handcuffs and scratch marks on her arms, I would have called the cops within ten seconds. "Here, you can come in."

I struggled to get to my feet, my balance was off and I could barely move my legs. I limped to the open door and leaned against the wall as soon as I was inside.

"I'm Ella," She said quietly, wringing her hands in front of her. "And you are?"

I rolled my head back and groaned. "Wendy."

Ella stared at me for a few moments, assessing the situation, I suppose, when she finally blurted, "What happened?" She blushed and looked sheepishly at the floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's okay," I slid down the wall into a more comfortable position. I surveyed the girl in front of me—tall, with dark brown hair and huge brown eyes. She had a shy smile with a small dimple on the left side of her face. "I guess you could say I'm running from an abusive ex."

She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh my gosh, are you okay? Do you want me to call the police or something?"

"No, they won't help me," I sighed, rolling my shoulders, feeling the stiffness set in. "They're part of the reason I'm in this mess."

A coy smile lit up her face, a stark change from her previously unassuming disposition. She summoned me over to the counter with a wave of her hand. I followed beside her, feeling off-balance and awkward with my tense muscles and my bound hands. Ella reached under the register and produced a bobby pin. "I can unlock those for you." She went behind me, and after a few minutes, I heard a loud click and a triumphant laugh. She dangled the handcuffs in front of my face, a victorious smile lighting up her features.

I rubbed my raw wrists and grinned at her. "You certainly are just full of surprises."

Ella smiled. "Here," she motioned me to the door behind the counter. "There's a couch in there if you want to lie down for a bit. I'm off at four AM. I'll wake you up before I leave."

I shocked myself with my actions, but I couldn't stop myself from enveloping her in a giant hug. "Thank you," I said, feeling close to tears. She smiled again and closed the door after she left.

I sat down on the couch and wrapped my arms around my knees. It had been so long since I allowed anyone to touch me, after Pan I just couldn't…. any time someone would so much as brush my arm when passing by, I'd just stand there, frozen, unable to move, feeling panic flow through my veins, thinking it was _him._

I chuckled bitterly. I couldn't even be touched by another person without even having an anxiety attack. "You really messed me up, didn't you, Pan?"

I curled up on the stiff old corduroy couch and fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

A flash of light.

A figure, shrouded in darkness.

A grin, teeth gleaming.

An outstretched hand, slicked in blood.

 _Pan._

I shot to my feet as I felt a hand on my shoulder. Ella looked at me, eyes wide in surprise at my reaction.

"Sorry," I murmured, sitting back down on the couch. "Is it time for me to leave?"

Ella wrung her hands and looked at her feet. "No, you just… I think you were having a nightmare. You were talking in your sleep and then you started crying."

I touched a hand to my cheek. It was streaked with tears. I covered my eyes, relishing the coolness of my fingertips against my eyelids. "I don't mean to be such a pain." I stood. "I should leave now anyway. He could find me anywhere."

She led me back to the front of the store. She idled for a moment before letting me pass by her. She turned to face me. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help? I don't think I can bear the thought of you out there alone with some crazy dude chasing after you."

I smiled, seeing the bags under her big brown eyes in the harsh fluorescent light. The bulb flickered slightly, casting a strange shadow over her face for a brief moment. I flicked my eyes away from hers as a pair of truck drivers walked through the door. I stiffened, watching them closely.

One of the men, tall and thin, had a thick black moustache and bright green eyes that made me want to puke. The other, also tall but rather sturdily-built, had light blond hair and beady eyes the color of coal. They both acted rather nonchalant, nodding at Ella and me, and then looking at the different sweets displayed on the shelf.

"I'll stay until they leave," I whispered in her ear before moving to lean against the wall. "just in case."

She nodded, and then proceeded to wipe off the counter and tidy it up.

I continued to keep an eye on the men as they made their way around the starkly-lit convenience store, picking up different item and briefly discussing the price or taste of a particular brand. There was nothing blatantly suspicious about them, but anyone could be working for Pan.

Okay, what wasn't blatantly suspicious about two beefy men coming into the exact gas station I sought refuge in at three in the morning?

They moved toward the register, each carrying an armload of snacks and drinks. "You boys look like you're going to be on the road for a long time," Ella commented, ringing up the items as they dumped them on the countertop.

"Yes," the blond one replied gruffly, his accent far different than that of the region. My muscles instantly tensed. The dark-haired one reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver box.

"Ella! Get down!" I tackled her to the ground as a blast of hot air shot out above us. "Hold your breath!" I ordered. She obliged, her eyes wide in terror, her mouth shaking.

 _Ghoster._ An airborne potion that caused the bodily reaction of going into shock and almost immediate unconsciousness.

"Real original, Pan!" I shouted, quickly waving my hand to create fresh oxygen. Ella stared at me the red-hazed air began to clear and we heard the men yelling at each other.

"Did it work?" One asked.

"I don't know," the other replied.

"Well, how do you know if it worked?"

"I don't know,"

I rolled my eyes and stood. "Good God, is there anything you _do_ know?" I hurled the tip jar at the blonde's head, knocking him down, as I leapt over the counter and kicked Mr. Moustache right in the throat. As Big and Ugly stumbled to his feet, clutching his head, I grabbed hold of a display cart and rammed in straight into his knee. He howled in pain, now holding his head and his knee, as I promptly kicked him directly in the groin. He dropped to the ground, down for the count.

"Look out!" Ella screamed, as his accomplice latched onto me from behind. He wrapped an arm around my neck, effectively cutting off my airflow.

I swung my legs up, leveraging myself against the countertop, and pushed back. He moved back a step, but held fast. My panic instinct set in, and I clawed wildly at his arm, creating small but deep slices on his skin.

He squeezed tighter.

My eyesight began to blur as my legs gave out. My head started to go fuzzy as I saw Ella stand up and nail the guy in the temple with a glass bottle of vodka.

He staggered back, releasing me. I fell forward, gasping for breath. Ella picked up another bottle and broke it over his head. He collapsed, out cold.

I gripped the counter, struggling to stay upright, rubbing my throat to ease the pain. Ella was bent over, chest heaving. "What the hell just happened?"

I swore under my breath. Another person's life was going to be ruined by Pan. "I told you, I'm in a bunch of trouble."

She laughed, brushing the hair off her forehead and hiding her face in the crook of her arm. "Yeah, no shit.


	4. Chapter 4

Ella and I tied the unconscious men to a support beam in the center of the gas station and retreated behind the counter to call the police

I would have to be gone once they got there, which could be hours, considering the horrific events that transpired at the precinct that night.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I shuddered as I recalled the moments of terror, still fresh in my mind.

I sunk to the floor, back to the wall, massaging my sore throat.

The gruff policeman. _Tony._

The tall, sneering boy. _Slightly._

The evil, wicked monster. _Pan._

I jolted, feeling the ghosts of his hands on my arms. Ella raised an eyebrow at me as I swiped my hands down my body, trying to rid myself of the phantom touch.

Against my will, my mind began to replay the night.

 _It had been a while since I'd gone for a walk. I typically stayed holed up in the small abandoned rach-style house I claimed for myself. It was safer that way._

 _I strolled down the pavement, having ventured into the heart of the city. I paused every now and then, pretending to window shop, but I was observing my surroundings._

 _I was being followed._

 _I felt icy dread settle in my gut as I continued on my way, trying to fight the panic that wrapped itself around my brain._

It's okay. You're safe. He can't hurt you. You're okay. _I repeated it like a desperate prayer, quickening my pace, being jostled around by a group of teenage girls passing by._

 _Pan hasn't started recruiting girls, right?_

 _I stopped in front of the bakery, looking over the cupcake displays and flowers made from French macaroons and buildings carved from cake and fondant. I allowed one moment to relax._

 _A hand clamped down on my shoulder._

 _I screamed, whirling around, driving my elbow into the side of whoever was behind me. A short, thin woman with dark black hair and tanned skin staggered back, clutching her abdomen, and then quickly straightening. She stared at me with an intensity I hadn't seen in years._

 _"Wendy Darling." It wasn't a question._

 _"What's it to you?" I asked, hurling all the sass into my voice that I could._

 _She reached into her jacket pocket, and I tensed, ready to run, when she pulled out a small wallet-type pouch._

 _"I'm TigerLIly Hunt," she explained, flipping open the wallet and showing me an I.D for the local police force. "I need you to come with me."_

 _I scoffed, curling my hand into a fist. "Yeah? You got a warrant?"_

 _TigerLIly calmly placed her I.D back in her pocket, studying me with espresso-black eyes, crossing her arms. "I don't need one. You're not under arrest. I just want to ask you a few questions."_

 _"Ask away."_

 _She scowled, and then began to speak, pausing only to tell off a group of leering teenage boys that crossed our path._

 _"I know who you are, Wendy. I know what he did to you. And he's tried to do it to others, but they've managed to escape." My heart had been steadily crawling up my throat, but leaped up to rest on my tongue as she finished her sentence. "We need you, Wendy. To finally bring him down. He's brought too much pain to too many lives to get off scotch-free. He needs to pay for this crimes."_

 _"I agree," I scuffed the cement sidewalk with the toe of my converse. "But you seem awfully invested for a detective. Why are you sharing so much?"_

 _"Because I'm close to the source. I knew him. I hated him. I didn't know what he was doing, at the time, but as soon as I found out, I reported him. He's a monster, Wendy. He's killed. He's kidnapped. He's pillaged and plundered long enough. That's why you need to come forward with what you know. You were with him longer than any others we've recovered."_

 _I laughed bitterly at her choice of words. He would have balked at the thought of being compared to a pirate. "How did you find me?"_

 _Her gaze lowered, only for a moment, but it was enough. "You're not supposed to be talking to me, are you?"_

 _"No." Her face is as determined as before. "I'm not even on this case. I found you because some officers were going to take you in as a suspect this afternoon. I saw your file on a desk. I tracked you down. I had to warn you." She stepped closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "He's back, Wendy. He's spread photos, of you, with him, with the boys. Proof that you were there. If he's going down, he wants to bring you down with him. You are a constant reminder of his biggest failure. The boys doubt him. If he can't control a young girl, how is he to rule the great land he's promised them? He's weakened, by this lack of faith, of trust—"_

 _"Of pixie dust," I breathed, the words scalding my mouth as I spoke. "Tink left, didn't she?"_

 _The crease that had resided in her forehead since she approached me smoothed for a second. "Yes. She's safe. She told us everything she knew, which wasn't much. Nothing compared to your knowledge."_

 _"It's been years," I confessed, shaking my head, feeling useless. "I haven't been in contact with him since the nineties."_

 _"That may be, but you still know him better than anyone. The way he thinks, why he does what he does."_

I'm not sure anyone knows what drives his homicidal rampages. _I didn't dare speak my thoughts aloud._

 _She glanced over her shoulder, and her posture changed from the relaxed interviewer to scarcely concealed panic. "We need to leave."_

 _"What? Why?" I felt the blood rush to my face, adrenaline coursing through my veins._

 _"They found us."_

"Wendy." Ella dragged me from my thoughts. "They'll be here soon. You should go."

I nodded, getting to my feet. I glanced over at the two men still secured to the pillar. "Are you sure you'll be alright?" I asked her warily. She nodded. I didn't fear for her life, I knew Pan knew that his plan had failed. He would move on from this place without a second thought. His only concern was finding me. He didn't like when I hid.

 _"Wendy Bird, where are you?" Pan crooned, his soft voice slicing at me, wrapping my limbs in thick tendrils of fear._

 _I preferred when he was angry. I knew what to expect._

 _I pulled my knees closer to my chest, hidden away in the darkest corner of the echoing cave. I clutched the vial of pixie dust Tink had given me before flitting away, still pretending to be indifferent to my circumstances._

 _"I know you're in here," I heard his footsteps scraping against the rough mineral floor, scattering small pebbles as he moved._

 _I huddled into myself even more, wishing I could disappear. My heart pounded in my chest, so harshly my body ached. My eyes followed his slim figure as he searched the recesses of the alcove, a mere two yards from where I was concealed in shadow._

 _He grunted. "I don't_ like _this game, Wendy." A hint of fury leaked through his carefully constructed tone. He spat my name like a curse. I remained silent, watching him, his chest heaving in and out as he snorted. "You're good at hiding. Too bad I'm better at finding."_

I wrapped my arms around Ella, hugging her fiercely. "Thank you. I owe you my life."

She grinned cheekily. "If I ever need someone to cover my shift, I'll call you."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling my eyes water. I had been showed more kindness, and experienced more carnage, in one day, than I had in years. "Stay safe, wild child." I sniffed, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.

Her gaze softened. "I will."

I headed toward the door, pulling my jacket tighter over my shoulders, preparing to brace the cold morning that awaited me.

"Wendy," Ella called out, voice uncertain.

"Yeah?" I didn't turn around. The tears would have betrayed my fear.

"Kick his ass. For me. And more importantly, for you."

"I will."

I pushed through the doors and set off into the darkness, the slightest bit of light ascending over the horizon.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: just so y'all know, most of this chapter will be memories/flashbacks of Wendy's past, and some of her thoughts, because I have a never-ending love of writing back stories. Enjoy!**

" _Wendy," a quiet voice floated into my dreams._

 _I awoke with a start. The warm, balmy air surrounded me, not unpleasant or stifling. I had only been on Neverland for about two months, and it was far more enjoyable than my life in London._

" _Wendy, wake up," Pan repeated, although I called him Peter back then. Sunlight streamed through the open window, encompassing his tousled hair like a halo._

I used to think he was an angel.

 _He removed his hand from my shoulder and straightened. "Good. You're up." He smirked while I grinned up at him, brushing my hair back from my face. "We have a big day planned, so get all your stuff together. We'll leave after breakfast." With that, he sauntered across the room to the window and hopped out, laughing when he heard my terrified yelp._

In retrospect, I wish he hadn't been able to fly.

 _I looked up at the ceiling of the cavernous treehouse, the only space I could ever truly call my own. I remember when Pan first found me, a small, shivering girl on the streets of London, having just been cast of my own home by my father on a drunken rampage. I was terrified, completely alone, when he took my hand and reminded me that I was someone, I was worth something. And then he took me to his home, his Neverland, shared it with me, built me a home of my own._

" _Wendy!" He called up to me, humor unmistakable in his voice. "Quit stalling and get dressed!" I heard a few of the Lost Boys snicker at his command._

 _I rolled my eyes and stood, throwing on the loose-fitting top and too-long pants Pan had supplied me with when I first arrived. I tied my curls back in a loose braid and snatched my knapsack from the foot of my bed, where I had tossed it the night before. I flung open the door and scurried down the rope ladder, not quite as eager to make an appearance like his._

 _Mornings like this were not uncommon. Pan would wake me up every morning, an hour after sunrise, we would quarrel and joke, experimenting with not-quite flirting. We ate breakfast with all the boys, usually some exotic, foreign fruit that I didn't recognize but tasted delicious, and then we'd set off for our day._

 _Spontaneous adventures seemed to be the theme of our lives for decades. It started with exploring the island that, while Pan knew it better than the back of his hand, was anew mystery for me to solve with each trek across the terrain. Cliff jumping was a favorite, finding the highest bluff and diving down into the ocean, not worried about sharp rocks or treacherous mermaids, for Pan's magic kept it all away._

 _As I grew older, not in terms of age, for time was slowed significantly there, but in the way of maturity and skill, Pan began to take me with him on his trips to other lands. My favorite place was the Enchanted Forest, I loved sneaking peeks of the heroes and heroines that were the inspiration behind some of my most beloved fairy tales. Some of the places we visited were filled with whimsy and intrigue, such as Oz, with the "munchkins", the witches of all directions, the revered Great and Powerful Wizard, for which the land was named. Other were teeming with evil and wickedness, like Wonderland, where, despite the name, was ruled by a cruel, ruthless Queen of Hearts, with a corrupt court of petrified subjects._

 _As someone from the World of No Magic, as Pan referred to it, every display of it was awe-inspiring to me. I always believed in the existence of magic, I just never knew to what extent it could be wielded. Watching Pan heal wounds and grow flowers and build trinkets for the boys in the blink of an eye sparked a feeling of amazement in my heart. I could sit and observe him for hours, much to his amusement. He always said I was the Truest Believer, that my insatiable curiosity of its ways led my heart. I was always seeking magic. His magic, especially._

I did not know how much this strengthened him.

 _I became closer with a small group of Lost Boys, taking them under my wing, teaching them compassion and tact, while Pan taught them skill and agility. These boys, Slightly, Nibs, Rufio, Cubby, they were my little family. Nibs had a unique aptitude for sparse medical knowledge I was able to share. Cubby was an exceptional cook, and I shared my favorite recipes and showed him how to separate eggs and whisk the whites to form stiff peaks. Slightly fell victim to an innocent boyish crush, following me around like a lovesick puppy. I found he had a talent for sewing, and we sat side by side for hours, repairing torn shirt sleeves and patching ripped pants. Rufio and I connected on a different level; he had poured his heart out to me time and time again, voicing his shame and hurt and anger. His mother abandoned him as a young boy, and he had never known his father. He worked as a circus sideshow performer for three years, from age 13 to 16, when Pan found him and offered him a new life. I considered Rufio my closest friend on the island, second only to Pan._

He was the first to die when Pan turned.

 _I persuaded Pan to let the older two of "my boys", as they became affectionately known as, go on trips with us. His favorites always got to go on our journeys. He would leave us at a pub or dance hall and go off to take care of the ever-mysterious business he conducted._

 _Rufio was our appointed photographer, snapping shots of Slightly and I dancing, laughing, twirling in circles. Every so often I would take over his role, capturing pictures of him and Slightly arm-wrestling, or trying—and failing, miserably—to flirt with girls. On the rare occasions Pan stuck around and shared in on our fun, we would get a group picture from a kindly stranger. An old favorite photo of mine was of all of us, in the early 60's, Slightly, Rufio, Tootles, Pockets, Pan, and me, all smiling brightly at the camera. But while the rest of us were focused on the lens of the Polaroid, Pan gazed right at me, a certain light smoldering in his eyes._

 _But reality struck, once the bell bottoms and peace signs were tucked away, the Polaroid picture set in a frame of twigs on the chest of drawers._

 _Pan had grown different over the years, his once sparkling personality tarnished by something darker, something evil. His formerly amused laughs were now laced with venom, his kind eyes tainted with malice. I could sense it whenever I was around him; it was like his aura was blackened by soot._

 _I knew little of the greed and hate that stoked the fire of spite nestled deep in his heart of coal. I saw its cruel flames flash from his eyes when he let his façade of calm slip._

 _I knew he thirsted for power, craved it even. In the games we had played during my time there, Pan always had to be the best, the strongest, the most skilled._

 _It wasn't until a trembling Tinkerbell told me that it was_ me _, fueling his reckless behavior._

 _I couldn't believe it. How could I, Pan's most steadfast supporter, even when he deserved to be doubted, ousted, even, after some of his antics, still stood by him. I defended him, protected him. I owed him my life. I couldn't believe he was a monster._

Until he was.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** ** _italics=_** **memories. Okay, enjoy!**

Sometimes it amazes me how naïve I once was. A scroll of thoughts unfurled in my head as I shuffled down a lone road, tall oak trees towering above me on either side. A place like this would have inspired a feeling of wonder years ago, but now it left me on edge, watching every shadow for a sign of movement.

Every time I heard a twig snap or underbrush crunch, I ducked reflexively into the edge of the woods, scanning the area for him.

 _The first time I saw a dead body was at the hands of Pan._

 _I had just awoken from a fitful slumber, the howling wind and sporadic bursts of rain interrupting my sleep. Judging by the position of the moon when I looked out the window, it was near two hours from morning._

 _As I settled back into bed, a blood-curdling scream pierced the night air. I bolted upright, hand reaching for the sword stationed at my bedside._

 _"You'll never have to use it," Pan had assured me when he gave it to me one morning. "But you should never be defenseless. You never know when the pirates could attack." We had spent that whole morning practicing forms and techniques. He was a skilled swordsman._

 _Standing, I clutched the weapon in shaking hands as I made my way to the window. I peeked out, knees trembling, heart racing._

 _I saw Pan, standing in the middle of our makeshift courtyard, yank his dagger out of the chest of a man. Although the rain obscured my vision, I could see that the man was far older than Pan, in his thirties, and dressed in the oddest garb I'd ever seen. Black waistcoat, blazing red vest, black pants, and a large brown hat with an enormous pink feather protruding from its top._

 _A pirate, I realized with an audible gasp, just as Pan began to speak. "Your kind are not welcome here! Let this be a reminder to all pirate scum that this is not your land to pillage and plunder! This is the land of Lost Boys! I am Peter Pan, ruler of Neverland!" I watched in utter disbelief as he lifted the man using magic, his limp body hanging in the air, before hurling him in the direction of the sea._

 _I sank to the floor of my treehouse, sword clanging noisily as it fell from my hand. I covered my mouth with a hand, trembling, unable to breathe._

 _"Peter?" I whispered. His name felt foreign on my tongue. "What have you done?"_

_DP_

 _I had forgiven Pan for his transgressions, for he had been protecting the camp from an ambush, but I could never erase the way he looked that night._

 _His green eyes, which had always gazed so tenderly upon me, were filled with an unexplainable fury. They glowed like embers from a blazing fire, untamed and uncontrollable. His kind smile had twisted into a wicked smirk, as though he enjoyed the act of murder._

(I later found that he did.)

 _I had covered my ears and squeezed my eyes shut for months after that, every time I heard something simple as rainfall or a shriek of excitement. I always reached for the dagger sheathed at my hip, ready to defend myself._

 _Rufio, Cubby, and Nibs all took notice of my growing unease around Peter, always casting me a comforting glance when I was with him. Rufio always tensed whenever Pan approached me, his hand flitting to the nearest weapon he could find. (Usually a rock.)_

 _Slightly, however, had a keen interest in growing to be just like Pan, from his haughty attitude to his dangerous tricks. Nibs and I were called in several times to stitch him up after he failed to juggle swords like Pan or walk barefoot on a shattered looking glass._

I glanced up sharply, thoughts interrupted, as a twig snapped forty paces to my right. I dropped down immediately, crawling toward the closest tree for cover. I considered my options. I couldn't stay on the ground; Pan's boys always attacked from above. Nor could I climb these massive trees without the aid of magic.

 _Magic._

I clawed at my chest, searching for the small iron locket that always hung there. I grasped it and yanked the chain from around my neck. It shimmered and glowed a blinding shade of ocean blue. Tinkerbell had given the necklace to me the night before she helped me escape, promising me that in the case of gravest danger, it would lead me to safety.

What she didn't give me, however, was an instruction manual, and I heard a rustling in the trees not far from me. My heart raced as I scrambled to find a use for the pendant.

Would it let me scale the tree like an expert climber? I dug my hands into the stiff bark and tried to lift myself up. I managed to get half a foot off the ground before slipping and dropping down. I huffed a frantic sigh and tried to think.

Could I turn invisible? I glanced at my hand and found it still very much opaque and visible. Blast! I tugged a strand of hair and hunkered down around the base of the tree. Perhaps if I just sat there, they'd go right past me…

"Look wha' I found!" A raspy voice with a prominent Cockney accent crowed from above.

Perhaps not.

I leapt to my feet in a fighting stance as two boys dropped down in front of me. Both faces were unfamiliar, terribly hideous, and looked as though they'd just found a hidden treasure. Which, technically, they had.

"Who are you?" I shouted, raising my fists. They were clearly not expecting me to speak, for they took a step back, startled.

The taller of the two sneered and spit on the ground beside him. "I'm Conney and that's Winston," he laughed, a horrible, grating noise. "And we ain't scared of no little girl."

"You should be," I quipped, and then launched myself at him.

I caught him off guard as I drove my fist at his throat and he slipped backward on the soft mossy ground, nearly taking me down with him. His partner, Winston, pried me off of him, but clearly no one had informed him that you don't fight with Wendy Darling.

I sank my teeth into the soft flesh of his forearm and, as he cried out in pain, slammed my head back into his face. He staggered back, dropping me.

"Blimey!" Conney bellowed as he grabbed me by my hair, yanking me back. I screamed, tears springing to my eyes. I struggled against his firm hold, trying to drive my elbow in his side or my knee into his groin. He held fast, my attempts futile. Winston sauntered toward me and grasped my chin in his sweaty paw-like hand.

"We got us a fighter, Conney! Much better than the one we met at the petrol station, wouldn't you say?" They both laughed cruelly as my stomach dropped. Ella…

No.

I refused to believe it. Not one more person could get hurt because of me. Because of Pan.

Feeling a renewed sense of strength surge through my muscles, I spit directly into Winston's face.

"Why, you little—" he sputtered, winding his arm back to strike.

As his fist flew toward my face, I forced my body down and out of Conney's hold, grinning as I heard the telltale sound of a punch colliding with someone's teeth. I scrambled across the damp forest floor, my fingers finding and closing around a small mossy log.

As Conney groaned in pain and Winston wheeled around to face me, I swung the branch at his jaw with all my might. He fell to the ground with a thud.

One down, one to go.

Conney had recovered from his hit and roared with rage when he saw that his friend was down for the count.

I backed up, feeling loose stones scatter beneath my footsteps. My back collided with a tree trunk, sending a jolt of pain down my spine. He advanced toward me.

"Ya know, Pan said you'd go down easy. Maybe run away but be easy to catch. Clearly, he underestimated you," he grunted, rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles.

I shrugged. "He always does." With that, I lobbed a rock right at his temple. He glared at me for a moment, eyes bulging, before dropping to land beside Winston.

I heaved a sigh of relief, sliding down the trunk to rest for a moment. I hung my head and thought of Ella, whispering out a prayer for her. My eyes fluttered closed for a second, before popping open as my necklace burned against my skin. Gooseflesh sprung up on my arms and the back of my neck, and the air grew thick. I lifted my eyes, feeling furious and defeated.

I was frozen by magic, the bane of my existence crouching before me, a smirk scrawled across his face.


	7. Chapter 7

I had no idea where I was.

Pan had used his magic to knock me unconscious, and had no doubt taken me to his base of operations.

Despite the scratchy burlap bag over my head (how archaic), I could make out the voices of at least a dozen boys, and could see the blurred outlines of their bodies. I couldn't see Pan, but I knew he was seated across from me, staring.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," I bit, clenching my fists, fighting against my restraints, wishing I could beat him senseless.

Pan chuckled, and I sensed him stand and move closer. He yanked the bag off, and I squinted, trying to adjust to the harsh light.

I was in a cave of some sort, starkly lit by fluorescent bulbs studded in the ceiling. The walls were made of rock, and the whole area smelled of gasoline and gunpowder. The air was cold and clammy. I was in what seemed to be the hub of the cave, with tunnels branching off in several different directions. Several Land Rovers were parked to my far left in the corner, along with a few pickup trucks and a motorcycle. Our voices echoed as we spoke.

A group of dirtied boys scurried past, laughing and throwing glances and jeers at me. They were silenced by a glare from Pan.

"Good to know your sense of chivalry hasn't left you after all these years," I drawled, dragging my eyes from surveying the interior to glower at him. "Also I appreciate you not murdering them in cold blood right then. Can't say the same for the last batch of boys. I see you've also been working on your self-control."

He tightened his jaw before moving to kneel before me, a vile grin painting his features. "Is that all you think I am, Bird? A heartless killer?"

"Yes," I spat, trying hard not to tremble at his proximity. Don't touch me, don't touch me. "Whatever used to be your heart has shriveled up into a piece of coal. And all your humanity rotted away with it. You're a monster."

Pan nodded and patted my knee, causing me to recoil and bile to climb up my throat. "Glad to see you understand everything perfectly. Come along. Allow me to give you a tour." He waved a hand and the chair I was tied to lifted off the ground and floated over to him. I didn't struggle; I knew it was useless. I refused give him the satisfaction of seeing my discomfort.

I turned down one of the many tunnels in the cave system, Pan strolling along with me hovering a few feet behind, listening half-heartedly as he bragged about his "genius" operation. I rolled my eyes every other sentence. "You see, the world is a mess. There's too many people in charge, too many options. People need to be told what they want. If they get to choose, they go and muck it up. I think I can fix that." He paused to glance at me for dramatic effect. "This is the heart of it all," he announced with grand flourish, gesturing to a massive cavity made of exposed rock, harsh LED floodlights casting strange shadows across the large space. It was filled with stacks of towering crates and lengths of cables running along the walls and the vibrating hum of a generator somewhere behind the boxes. Thick black cables snaked across the smooth stone floor, disappearing down the tunnel opposite the one we had just emerged from. I could hear rushing water in the distance. "This is where all the magic happens." He smirked at his own words.

I rolled my eyes again. "How clever," I commented dryly. "What 'magic' happens here, exactly?"

"Oh, that's the fun part," he rushed over to one of the crates, pulling me along with him, and yanked the lid off of one. Inside, nestled in Styrofoam packing peanuts and bubble wrap, was a collection of semi-automatic weapons and various cartridges of ammo.

I couldn't conceal my shock. I stared, slack-jawed, bug-eyed. "What…what is this?"

Peter slid the top back into place slowly, seeming to enjoy the scraping sound it made. "This, my dear Bird," he turned to face me, eyes glinting with mischief, "is what will change the world. Chaos."

"Chaos?" I sputtered, starting to writhe around in my chair, true terror creeping over me. He was crazier than I had thought possible. "Peter, this is madness! This is reckless and dangerous—" An angry flush warmed my cheeks. I had said his name out loud. I felt the need to rinse my mouth out with soap.

He cocked his head at my use of his name, but shrugged and sidled away, waving his finger to ensure I followed closely behind. "Again, I'm surprised you caught on so quickly. Creating madness will get me exactly what I want."

"Power." I finished. The words, cold and bleak, echoed around the cavern. I wilted back into the chair, all the fight slowly draining from me. This was it. His final move. He was going to throw the world into the blender and then as its blood and guts were poured out, he would plant himself front and center as its leader. As its king. My charmed necklace hung limply across my throat, dim and lifeless. A plan started to form in my head. I swallowed roughly before speaking. "It's the same as it's always been, huh?"

Pan, who had been strolling along contentedly, throwing out comments about the rest of his base, stopped and faced me, confusion evident on his face. "What do you mean? Nothing's the same. Not one single thing."

"Yes, yes, it is." My voice was clearer now, and stronger. The fear that had struck mere moments ago melted away, and I was left with fiery hot fury. "You're still just a scared little boy trying to prove himself in a world that doesn't need him anymore. Stuck playing make-believe with all your Lost Boys." I hissed, my words like acid. I felt the pendant of my necklace, stinging hot and vibrating wildly against my collarbone. "You're no king. You're a coward."

"Enough!" He screamed, flinging out a hand, sending me crashing into the rock walls of the cave. He stepped closer, and towered over my prone figure on the ground. "You pushed the boundaries, Bird. You thought I wouldn't hurt you. You thought that I still cared, that I'd never lay a hand on you." He sneered coldly. I prayed he didn't notice the wriggling of my hands as I tried to free them from the restraints. "You were wrong, Darling."

I glanced around, checking to see if there was anyone nearby. There wasn't. "You know, I was kind of hoping you still hated me," I quipped, still attempting to twist my wrist just the right way so I could slip out of my improvised handcuffs. I could sense him hovering above me and I could hear his heavy breathing. Anger radiated off of him. I scooted myself around so I could face him. "This would have been really awkward if you were still in love with me."

I wish I could say I knew what I was doing, when in reality, I was praying really hard and relying heavily on dumb luck. I lunged toward him, my hands free, and slammed a fist into his jaw. I felt energy transfer from the pendant into my hand and then into his face. He reeled backward, off-balance, clutching his chin as blood dripped from his mouth. "What the hell?" he grunted, slightly dazed, still staggering about. I took advantage of his delayed reaction, turning and sprinting down the tunnel. Running toward what I hoped was an exit, I passed a room carved into the wall of the cave. The door was emblazoned 'private' and had a pass code lock.

"Have anymore tricks up your sleeve?" I muttered to the charm, reaching forward and twisting the handle. To my surprise, it opened with a soft 'click'. "Nice." I knew I didn't have long until Pan regained his wits and sent his militia after me, so I scanned the little closet-like room, which seemed to be an office of some sort. There were two computers crowed together on a desk, with stacks of crinkled papers surrounding them. Old cardboard coffee tumblers littered the ground, along with pizza boxes and candy wrappers. Obviously who ever occupied the area was there a lot. My eyes fell on a shoebox, half-buried under dog-eared sheets filled with scribbled text. It was marked 'Wendy'.

Intense curiosity overtook survival instincts in that moment, and I found myself shuffling through the garbage on the rug-covered floor, flipping the lid of the box open as soon as I was close enough. I planned to take only a peek, and then hightail it out of there, but my breath caught in my throat as I rifled through the contents, and I couldn't tear myself away. It was filled with pictures of me over the years, the ones toward the top the most recent. I studied the pictures, completely confused. There was no way this was Pan's doing; he never would have let his space get so messy. Besides, Pan wasn't sentimental, he probably only saw me as a loss of property, or collateral damage. I lifted the photos and saw yellowed leaflets covered with scrawling penmanship and fading doodles of suns and flowers. My heart skipped a beat. I had written these letters decades ago. They were all addressed to-

The air in the room shifted, and I whirled around to find a figure standing in the doorway, shrouded in darkness. "Wendy?" He stepped forward, into the dim light, and I instantly recognized the kind brown eyes that I had known many years ago.

I all but ran to him, capturing him in a tight embrace. "Nibs," I breathed, still not quite believing what I was seeing. "You're alive."


	8. Chapter 8

I held him close, trying to process the _realness_ of him, his warm body and rich scent, like that of the jungle we were raised in.

Nibs seemed at as much of a loss for words as I was. He squeezed me so tight I could hardly breathe, and I felt hot teardrops land on the back of my neck. Sniffling, he pulled away and held me at arm's length, his eyes wide and disbelieving, rimmed with unshed tears. "I heard rumors, but I never let myself—I couldn't stand the thought that Pan had captured you. I know there's no way in hell you went down without a fight." He embraced me again, this time lifting me from the ground and spinning in a circle. "I always prayed I'd get to see you again. For real. Not just in pictures."

"Nibs, I've missed you terribly. More than anything." As my feet touched the stone floor beneath us, I realized I couldn't stop staring at him. He was taller than me now, with unruly curls of tawny brown and deep, earnest eyes of amber. Thin but strong, he looked healthy, but the purpling bags beneath his eyes told another story. "You've grown so much! How old are you now, not technically speaking?" His voice had changed the most. It had gone from being so high-pitched it could have been mistaken for a young girl, but as he matured, it developed into a typical teenage English boy's tone: deep, with notes of youthfulness.

"I'm seventeen, or at least I think I am. That was the last age Pan told me I was. Almost as old as him." He glanced around the small room, making sure it was secure for the time being, and dropped his voice even lower. "All of the new recruits, the most evil and vicious, they haven't aged a day. Me, on the other hand, I've been aging since the moment you escaped. Cubby, too. Slowly, but still getting old."

The rumbling of urgent footsteps thundered from just outside the door, causing us to duck behind a stack of boxes. We waited for them to pass, crouched shoulder to shoulder, as silent as we could be. "Nibs," I whispered softly, shifting so I could face him. His eyes instantly moved to meet mine, the weak yellow light barely illuminating the bottom half of his face. "I don't know if I'll ever see you again. You could be killed just for seeing me here and not sounding the alarm." My voice caught, and I cursed myself. _Stay strong, Wendy. You owe him that much._ "There is nothing I regret more than leaving you behind. I—I didn't know what to do. Hook was offering me safe passage off the island, a take-it-or-leave-it deal. I had no time to think. So I didn't. I sprinted across the beach without a single thought for all the people I loved and was abandoning and jumped onto the ladder for that horrible old pirate ship. I never looked back." I lowered my head, surprised to find that tears pricked at my eyes. I hadn't cried over these memories in what felt like ages. But here, knelling beside the person it affected most, I couldn't quell the rising waves of guilt and shame that washed over me. "I wish I had. I never even considered what Pan might do to you, to the boys closest to me. I was so selfish, Nibs. I was your mother-figure and your best friend and you were mine and I left you behind. I know I shouldn't have, after Rufio, but I never expected—" Silent sobs overtook me, but I didn't lean into him. I didn't deserve his comfort or compassion. I deserved to sit there, crying, alone. That made it all the worse when his long arms wrapped around me without a moment's hesitation.

"Wendy," The gentleness of his voice made me cry harder. "You were the one who taught me that what happened in the past is in the past. You can't change it. No amount of wishing can go back and do things differently." He paused as another group of Pan's boys jogged past the door. "There's no need for forgiveness, as I never held it against you. I understood. I loved you more than anything, Wendy. I knew that you needed to escape. You needed to survive."

After several long moments, filled with my shuddering breaths and Nibs' murmured words of comfort, my tears slowed and I stood, wiping the remnants from my eyes. "I have to go. It's not long until Pan finds me here." My throat was still thick, and I swallowed roughly to clear it. "You should go to. He probably knows you're one of the only people here who wouldn't kill me on the spot."

He stood, too, his lanky figure unfolding to the point where I was reminded of my time away from him. I felt another pang in my chest; he was just a little kid when Pan stole him away. He could have lived a normal life, away from the carnage and horror that Pan brought with him. "I'm not going to just run away, Wendy. I'm helping you get out of here, if it's the last thing I do."

I was in process of moving to the door as he spoke, and his words stopped me in my tracks. "That's the thing—it might just be the last thing you do. I'm not letting you get yourself killed for me."

"You're not stopping me. What are you going to do, report me to the nearest guard?" He was beside me now, towering above my head and making me feel young, foolish, even thought I was older by almost twenty years. (Technically.) He imitated a distorted version of what was meant to be my voice, saying, " 'Excuse me, Mister Killer-Lost-Boy, sir, I would like to turn in this delinquent who is aiding and abetting in my escape from your evil demon boss. Oh, yeah, by the way, I'm escaping right now, as we speak.' "

I rolled my eyes and eased the door open, checking the hallways on both sides to make sure it was clear. "You may be older than me now, but you are still such a child."

"I'm not a child." Something in his voice, like he was somehow wounded, made me want to look back at him with a raised brow and unimpressed frown. Anyone who has to say that most likely is still a child, at least at heart. I'd bet he was pushing his chest out in effort to look older as he spoke, too.

I chose to ignore him and slip out into the corridor, and he followed close behind. We continued in silence for some time, ducking behind crates and shipping containers and in alcoves of the cave's rocky walls. Nibs was quite good at sneaking around and avoiding detection, so much so that I found it concerning.

"Have you done this before?" I asked quietly after he pulled me into yet another hiding spot, just out of sight from two boys who looked about my age, but were taller than Slightly, with meaner faces.

He shot me a cocky smirk that reminded me all too much of Pan, which sent a shiver down my spine. "You think I want to stay cooped up in this cage of rocks?" He winced at his word choice, but I waved my hand in dismissal. Not like I could forget my time spent in an actual cage, anyway. "Sorry. Well, the answer is no. After a couple of months, I found an almost-foolproof route from my workspace to an emergency exit, which I have used numerous times without being caught. Let's hope I'm still lucky."

"Huh." My reply was simple, but my mind was reeling. It was so strange, seeing this boy who was still so much like the child I left all those years ago, but also somehow completely different at the same time. He did certain things, like rotate his left wrist in small circles as he moved, a nervous habit he had developed when he was younger, or twitch the right corner of his mouth when he heard someone's voice ring out in the hallway we made our way through. But then there were different things, like running a hand through his too-long hair, which was always kept relatively tidy when I lived on the island, or his troubling knack for swearing up a storm. Hearing one of the most innocent people I had ever known unleash flurries of curse words in frustration was quite disconcerting, and I found myself wanting to correct his language, as I had when he was still a little boy. It wouldn't be fair, I decided, as I swore just as much as he did, if not more. In my heart, however, it still felt like I was the 'big kid'.

Dumb things to think about when your life is on the line.

Speaking of my heart, it pounded wildly in my chest with every step I took, terrified beyond belief at even the chance I would have to see Pan again. My stupid brain wouldn't let me stop thinking of times I hadn't been scared for my well-being in his presence, and the memories filled my mind once again. I did my best to ignore them, to focus on the task at hand, but one I had forgotten about until that moment practically slapped me in the face, begging for attention.

 _We stood together in Echo Caves, sometime during the first couple of months I lived in Neverland. Peter was still intent on showing me every square-inch of his beautiful island, and I voiced no objection. It was one of my favorite things, waking up every morning and having no idea what great adventure he had planned for us that day._

 _He was giving a guided tour of the place that made goose bumps pop up on my arms and neck and legs. The expansive black abyss seemed to swallow all the light from the torch I carried high above my head. Peter must have had every step of the cave memorized, as he never stumbled or walked too close to the edge of the pathway._

 _"This cave is different from all other caves in every single world and dimension. Do you want to know why?" He didn't bother to wait for an answer; the answer was always yes, regardless. "Should the occasion arise, we would be able to lock up a bad guy on that little section of rock in the middle of the gorge. See?" He pointed toward the center of the darkness, off into the empty air where there was nothing but a great fall to who-knows-where. I squinted, raised my lamp to try and see better. He snickered, and with a snap of his fingers, the whole cave was illuminated in the warm lighting from several torches perched on the walls._

 _"Oh, Peter! Why didn't you do that before? I had to carry this big, heavy stick for no reason!" I wasn't really mad, mostly annoyed, because Peter had this infuriating ability to always put himself in the best light and make the person he screwed over realize that maybe his rude action was actually beneficial to them._

 _He winked and turned away. "Have to build up that arm strength somehow, haven't you? Now, where were we? Oh, yes. The island of rock."_

 _I saw it now, a small circle of stone atop a long column that descended deep into the dark mist below. "How do you get to it?" It was at least fifty feet from the edge of the walkway, and even I knew pixie dust was far too precious to waste on flying a prisoner to some slab of rock in a cave._

 _"That's what makes it so unique. If the criminal's friends, or whoever he works for, dares to try and rescue him, they must pay a price that requires no bloodshed." His emerald eyes gleamed in the dim light. "To leave, you must admit your deepest secrets. With each confession, a section of bridge forms and leads you closer and closer to the holding place."_

 _I could hardly help the excitement that coursed through my veins. Anything that spectacular required magic, and there were few things I loved more than that, especially when Peter was the one who preformed it. "May I try it? Please, Peter? Nothing would make me happier!"_

 _"Really? Nothing on all the island would make you happier than building a bridge from stone?" Peter feigned a hurt expression for only a moment before returning to his falsely jovial self. "Of course, Bird. Do as you'd like."_

 _I smiled so wide it felt as though my cheeks might tear right in half. I was a bit of a brat; I loved getting my way, and Peter always gave it to me. "Okay, now I need a secret." He shook his head at me in amusement and wandered a bit down on the path, opting to sit on the edge and dangle his feet in the air. "Peter, be careful! If you do something foolish, like you always do, you could die. You should stand up before you fall, and die."_

 _"Weren't you supposed to be thinking up a secret?" He wrinkled his nose at me and continued to stay where he was. I rolled my eyes and turned away, my grunt of disapproval echoing throughout the large, open room._

 _"I hate when Peter does stupid things that could get him hurt," I said to the cave, and felt my shoulders slump forward as nothing happened. I heard Peter start to chuckle, and whipped around to face him. "What's so funny? I told a secret, didn't I?"_

 _He gave me a look I despised, one that made me feel childish and ignorant. "That's not a secret, Bird. I think everyone knows that you don't appreciate my stunt work." He finished with a grin, and leaned forward over the ledge, much to my chagrin._

 _"Fine! If I can't do it right, you tell one!"_

 _"Fine, I will!" Peter paused a moment, looking around the room as if the boring gray stones were the most interesting thing in the world. I knew he was doing it just to bug me, and that was more annoying than anything. "How about this: I find it endearing that the Bird cares so much about my safety."_

 _A loud rumbling sounded in the cave, the ground shook, and I fought to keep my balance as Peter laughed aloud. I glanced at him, cheeks tinged pink, and then over to the chasm. A small chunk of rock now jutted out from the platform I stood on. I gingerly stepped onto it, testing its strength as another secret popped into my mind._

 _"I think it's cute how Peter does so much to annoy me, while trying to hide the fact that he likes me more than some of the Lost Boys." I raised a brow at him, proud of the blush that colored his face, and mouthed 'your turn.'_

 _He got to his feet and joined me as the section of bridge I stood on bounced and jostled slightly as a new piece emerged. "I have only wished once that I hadn't saved Wendy Darling from falling out of the sky."_

 _I stared at him in shock as the cave rattled around again and the bridge lengthened. "You take that back, Peter Pan!" He simply shrugged and gestured for me to go. "Well then, sometimes I wish Peter would actually get hurt while doing one of his stupid tricks."_

 _Nothing happened. He plopped down on the cold stone and pretended to buff his nails. "I've got all day, Bird." He offered a lazy smirk and settled back on his hands, as if getting ready to watch a play or performance._

 _"Every now and then I fear for Peter's sanity."_

 _The bridge extended a bit further._

 _"I don't like kittens, even fluffy little ones."_

 _"Peter! That's not a deep secret at all!"_

 _We were closer at this point, only two confessions away. I had mine prepared, and I felt nerves tingling in my fingertips as I spoke. "I want to stay in Neverland forever, with its King and all his Lost Boys. Even Cubby, who always eats more than his share at dinner. Or Slightly, who always stares at me weird. Even Peter," I added shyly, "who makes me blush too much and laugh too hard and do lots of stupid, stupid things that end up being really fun."_

 _"I'm scared of being crushed to death by falling rocks."_

 _The scrape of stone against stone resounded in the cave, and we finally touched the little island in the middle. I pushed past Peter to head back to the main walkway. "You are horrible at secrets," I informed him as hasten away, feeling foolish and exposed._

 _"Or maybe I'm too good at them."_

I nearly tripped over my own feet as Nibs stopped suddenly and shoved me behind a parked ATV. "Nibs," I started, breathless, almost shaking with excitement from my brilliant idea. "I know what we have to do."

"What? What is it?"

I felt the smile of a madman cross my face. "We need to blow this place up."


End file.
